


For what it's worth

by apathyinreverie



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Humor, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Pre-Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathyinreverie/pseuds/apathyinreverie
Summary: When Geralt tells him to get lost, Jaskier takes his aching heart, takes the memories of decades of friendship, and honestly tries to do as the witcher asked.‘Tries’ very much being the operative word here.Because, in the absolutely most stunning role reversalever, Geralt of Rivia – the White Wolf, witcher extraordinaire, protector of dragons and psychotic mages and innocents everywhere – then promptly starts followinghimaround instead.(Another post-dragon-hunt fix-it, where Geralt regrets lashing out at Jaskier but just can’t seem to figure out how to actually apologize. So, he resolves to stick close to the bard until he does. Jaskier is just honestly confused.)
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 314
Kudos: 2192
Collections: Best Geralt, Geralt is Sorry, Suggested Good Reads





	1. Chapter 1

Jaskier turns around, pain in his heart, eyes focused intently on the stones beneath his feet as he starts back towards the cave.

Away from Geralt who still has his back turned towards him.

Away from several decades of friendship, now suddenly broken.

Away from where he is apparently no longer welcome.

He knows Geralt is hurting from Yennefer’s less than optimal departure, knows the witcher is lashing out after losing someone he had finally been willing to risk investing some of himself into.

And also, may Jaskier just say, _screw Borch_. For butting in, for meddling in things that do not concern him, for messing with Geralt, someone who already has more than enough personal and interpersonal issues without someone else actively poking at things. No matter what the dragon’s reasons for doing so might have been.

Still, the knowledge that Geralt is currently rather likely in just as much pain as Jaskier is, doesn’t make the witcher’s words hurt any less.

He finally makes it off the rocky outcrop where the past five minutes of drama went down, a little ways away from the cave’s entrance. There is still nothing but complete silence behind him, has been ever since Geralt told him just how Jaskier very much isn’t welcome any longer, ever since the witcher claimed he never _was_ welcome in the first place.

The silence hurts.

Not that he had honestly expected Geralt to take back anything of what he just said. Even despite knowing that the witcher is most likely just lashing out, Jaskier knows better than to think Geralt didn’t actually mean everything he just said. In all the years they’ve known each other, he’s never witnessed Geralt say anything he doesn’t absolutely mean. The man barely speaks at all beyond his many variations of grunts. So, whenever he _does_ speak, you had better listen.

And, sure, Jaskier always knew this would happen at some point, knew he’d overstay his welcome, knew Geralt would get tired of him, if only because at some point Jaskier would simply get too old to keep up with the witcher, would become an actual burden on Geralt’s travels. He knew.

That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Jaskier glances in the direction of the cave, where Borch and his companions must be, thinks of what he said just a minute ago about getting the full story from the others. But he honestly doesn’t feel like talking to anyone right now.

No, for once he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, doesn’t feel like company. For all intents and purposes, he just lost the closest friendship he has ever had in his life. Jaskier just wants to be alone for a bit and wallow a little.

So, he instead turns right, away from the cave and towards the path leading back to their camp.

The camp from last night, where Jaskier had woken just a little while ago to find everyone else gone, had quickly scrambled up to make his way to where he assumed Geralt would be.

It’s not like that was the first time Geralt decided to go ahead and kill whatever monster they were hunting without Jaskier there, never all subtle about trying to keep him as far away from anything even remotely dangerous.

So, Jaskier had been neither surprised at finding himself alone at camp nor particularly worried. He got over that particular hang-up years ago.

Because Geralt might prefer to go hunting on his own but he has never truly left Jaskier behind, usually just shows up at their camp after a while covered in monster guts, apparently done with his hunt.

So, Jaskier simply had thought nothing of it and cheerfully followed after his witcher, hoping he’d get to see enough of the fight to let him create yet another song about Geralt’s various valiant deeds to delight the people of the continent with.

He had in no way expected to be making his way back on his own as well.

Then.

“Hm,” he hears the vague and familiar sound of Geralt ‘commenting’ on something or other.

But Jaskier can’t be bothered right now to indulge in his usual hobby of figuring out the witcher’s various grunts, doesn’t care whether it’s one of satisfaction – at Jaskier actually leaving – or a grunt of general anger at the universe in general or whatever else.

It might have taken him a couple of years, but Jaskier has actually been getting pretty good at deciphering Geralt various hums. Really, the man’s sheer variety of grunts, somehow covering the entire spectrum of emotions, from amusement to death threats, is rather impressive.

But right now, he simply can’t be bothered. Instead, he trudges on, back towards the camp.

It takes him until he’s already almost halfway there notice the sound of steps following behind him. Barely there, almost entirely silent, the witcher’s steps always so very light despite Geralt’s sheer size and even despite the uneven rubble beneath their feet, just the slightest sounds of pebbles shifting under his feet.

Jaskier frowns slightly, but other than that rather determinedly pays it no mind. Geralt made it perfectly clear that it’s no longer his business where the witcher decides to go from now on.

When he finally rounds the outcrop separating their camp from the path leading to the apparent dragon den, most of the camp is already gone. Yennefer’s tent has disappeared, as has the dwarves’ fire place.

It’s actually only Jaskier’s stuff still here, what with Geralt always carrying everything he owns around with him.

Which does make Geralt’s reasons for following him here at all even less apparent, but whatever.

Jaskier strides over to where he left his pack, gathers his things. He tries to ignore how Geralt’s steps have stilled somewhere behind him, does his best not to pay the witcher any mind.

Though, he also can’t help but press his lips together slightly. If only to keep in his sigh of exasperation.

Really, Geralt could give him at least a bit of a head start to collect his things, let Jaskier start making his way down the mountain before he does the same. Or just go on ahead without him.

Either way, sticking around right after telling Jaskier to get lost is at the very least contradictory, and actually more than a little exasperating.

Don’t get him wrong, usually Jaskier finds Geralt’s absolute disregard of polite modes of behavior either amusing or really rather endearing depending on the situation. But at this moment, he’d give just about anything for the witcher to be able to read just how much Jaskier doesn’t want him around right now, just wants to wallow on his own for a little while.

Alas, this is likely just fate’s punishment for Jaskier’s frequent amusement at everyone else’s expense whenever he witnessed them struggle dealing with Geralt’s casual and immovable indifference towards social conventions whenever he simply can’t be bothered to care about something trivial like etiquette or even general politeness.

The thought makes him want to sigh, caught between exasperation and absolute fondness for Geralt’s various quirks.

Still, as he finally gathers the last of his things and then turns towards the path leading down the mountain, Jaskier somehow is and at the same time very much isn’t surprised when he promptly hears the witcher’s ever-silent steps start up again behind him as well.

As Geralt apparently decides to follow him on his way down.

Figures that, wanting to get rid of him or not, Geralt – valiant knight that the witcher so likes to pretend he isn’t – would still feel obligated to make sure that Jaskier makes it safely down the monster-infested mountain before he’ll actually want to split ways.

He sighs in resignation. Because, really, there honestly isn’t much Jaskier can do to stop Geralt from doing whatever he likes anyway.

He’d need at least an _army_ to even attempt making Geralt do anything he doesn’t actually want to do. And even then, even with an entire army on his side, it would be a bit of a toss-up whether Geralt might not just take out everyone standing in his way and then stoically proceed to do what he wants to anyway.

_Better just leave him to it, then._

So, Jaskier breathes in, determinedly starts along the path down the mountain.

And resolves to entirely ignore Geralt’s presence.

Which - as he realizes within less than a day or so of the witcher calmly following after him, casually nudging Jaskier back towards the 'road' whenever he unintentionally veers off the path, all the while getting rid of any monsters along the way that might attempt taking a bit out of either of them - might actually be quite a bit harder than he had honestly expected.

_Figures._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this will be perfectly self-indulgent, have a couple of what-if twists just because, and also be rather ambiguous on whether this is pre-slash or not. And Ciri will show up later, but Yennefer likely won’t even make an appearance in this. 
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D


	2. Chapter 2

Jaskier is annoyed. Like _really_ annoyed.

For the simple reason that Geralt is _still_ following him.

The way down the mountain went pretty much exactly as Jaskier expected. They made camp twice, came across a couple of monsters for Geralt to either get rid of or to scare away, before they finally reached their original camp at the base of the mountain, where Roach - loyal mare that she is - had still been waiting for Geralt.

And Jaskier had thought that would be _it_ , had honestly expected the witcher to swing up unto his horse and then take off on his everlasting quest to hunt monsters and help out not-so-grateful humans for whatever coin they could spare. He had expected Geralt to want to split ways as soon as he had made sure that Jaskier made it safely down the mountain, had expected him to take this chance to finally put some of that apparently-long-desired distance between himself and Jaskier.

Except... The witcher _hadn't_.

Instead Geralt had simply collected Roach and then, _wordlessly as ever_ proceeded to follow Jaskier along the road leading towards Redania.

And right until that moment - the point in time where he had expected to finally find himself alone, no more grumpy, taciturn, far-too-observant witcher around picking up on every single one of his moods just based on body language alone - Jaskier hadn't even really made up his mind exactly where he was planning to go. The only thing he _had_ been planning on was to mourn a little in peace, to bemoan the loss of a friendship of several decades, lament the thought that - unlike any other time when they split ways - this time their parting would be less of a 'see you later' and more of an actual 'goodbye'.

The thought of that is rather unsettling. Because after what Geralt said up on that mountain, Jaskier won't purposely seek him out anymore, _can’t_. He won't ask around in taverns about rumors on the White Wolf's current location, won't ‘coincidentally’ decide to travel that way, won’t purposely put himself in the witcher's path any longer as he’s done for so many years now.

But.

If Jaskier stops doing any of that, the likelihood of the two of them running into each other again in some random tavern is rather infinitesimal. And Geralt sure as hell won't come looking for _him_. That's never been how their friendship worked.

Thus, Jaskier had inwardly prepared himself for a goodbye of some sort and been fully intending to seek out the nearest place with alcohol, get himself roaring drunk, and wallow in his pain for a couple of days.

However _now_ , Geralt's continued presence is messing with his plans. Jaskier can't bemoan _losing_ his witcher while Geralt is still the same brooding shadow at his side that he's always been on their travels. Never mind that it also makes absolutely no sense for the witcher to still be here _at all_.

Geralt is the one who made it rather unmistakably clear that he doesn't want Jaskier around anymore. So, _why in the world is the witcher still **here**?_

Jaskier keeps up his determination to entirely ignore Geralt for another full day, before his ever-growing irritation - at the witcher for not even having the common courtesy to leave Jaskier to lament the loss of their friendship in peace - finally makes him snap.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, voice as even as he can make it in spite of his honest annoyance. “ _What_ are you doing?”

Geralt just glances at him, meets his eyes, but his face giving absolutely nothing away. As always.

Jaskier huffs in exasperation. _Honestly, all the expressiveness of a block of ice._

They’ve left the mountains behind them at this point and are nearing Redania's border. There hasn’t been a single monster for almost the entire day and there is simply no reason for Geralt to still _be_ here.

Thing is, Jaskier simply isn't built for silence, much less for _extended_ silence, and trying to entirely ignore the witcher's presence is honestly starting to wear at him. He just wants some time to wallow in his pain, damn it all. And at least the heartache of this all should make for a rather excellent ballad. Once he actually gets around to writing it. Something that is really rather impossible to do while the person he’s wallowing in pain over is still around, now is it.

Jaskier huffs. “This is one of the busiest roads in the northern kingdoms, regularly patrolled by soldiers and well-travelled by merchants. There are no monsters here that might come jumping out at any given moment.”

A raised eyebrow, a slight head tilt. But as usual, not a single word out of the witcher, even as he so clearly wonders what Jaskier is talking about. Typical.

Jaskier comes to a stop, turns to face the witcher, just so incredibly _done_. He somehow isn't even surprised to see Geralt stop as well when, _usually_ , Jaskier’s dramatics don’t make the witcher so much as pause.

“ _Why_ ," Jaskier intones emphatically. "Are you still _here_?” He actively keeps himself from sighing in exasperation and instead enunciating rather clearly which parts contained in that question he takes the most issue with.

A slow blink. “Hmm,” Geralt finally hums rather non-informatively. Nothing beyond that.

_Seriously, the sheer eloquence of this man._

“How informative,” Jaskier comments sarcastically, his exasperation only increasing when he sees the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch up just the slightest bit in reaction.

He eyes the witcher.

Thing is, that response _was_ kind of informative. After years of traveling with the most reticent individual to ever walk the continent, Jaskier has learned to read Geralt’s various hums. And that one right there might as well have been an exasperated eye roll, maybe with a little fondness strewn in, but mostly just Geralt's way of commenting on how ridiculous he apparently thinks Jaskier is being.

Like _Jaskier_ is being the one behaving irrationally. Like Geralt hadn’t been the one telling him to get lost only to then – when he tried to do just that – decide to stick to his side like glue.

 _But,_ _sure_ , Jaskier thinks sardonically. **_I’m_** _clearly the one who is making absolutely no sense between the two of us._

Still, Geralt clearly isn't intending to shed any light on the current - rather confounding - situation. And there is nothing in Jaskier's power - possibly, no power in the world - that could force Geralt to give up anything he doesn't actually want to reveal.

And the only thing Jaskier can think of as an explanation for Geralt’s continued presence is that the witcher might just have been intending to travel this way all along, coincidentally mirroring Jaskier’s own travel plans.

So, he just huffs and then turns back towards the road in front of him, rather at a loss of what to do about the witcher apparently traveling the same direction he is and - in his less-than-great understanding of social modes of behavior - apparently seeing no problem with them traveling _together_ despite of everything he said on top of that mountain.

_Honestly._

They make camp a few hours later once it starts getting dark.

As they always do.

Geralt promptly disappears into the surrounding woods, while Jaskier does his best to start a fire. As they always do.

And the witcher reappears a little while later with dinner in hand, preparing it for the two of them to share. _As they always do._

As he bites into his bit of rather bland, unseasoned rabbit meat, sitting across from Geralt near the fire, Jaskier can't help but think that there sure are a whole lot of 'as always' routines between the two of them, a whole lot of 'as we usually do' habits.

Well, _usually_ Jaskier would also be chattering at Geralt about their latest adventure, trying to nag some more details out of him, or natter on about his newest love, or maybe about some song he is currently composing. Just because he can, because – despite all of his threats over the years – Geralt has never done anything to actually _make_ him keep quiet, which Jaskier has long since taken as tacit permission to do as he pleases. And also, because Jaskier simply isn’t a fan of silence, can’t stand it, actually.

But with all the things said and unsaid between them, he doesn’t this time. Instead, like he did the last two nights, Jaskier doesn’t really talk, somehow manages to keep himself mostly quiet beyond humming some melody to himself from time to time.

And, yes, Jaskier might actually be pouting a little, mostly about this rather odd situation he has found himself in. The situation of someone telling him to get lost, only to then not letting him do just that.

But as much as everything about this honestly bugs him, at the same time he can’t help but soak up this moment right here, basks in their so well-established routines, especially now that he is fully aware that this might just be the last time he gets to have this.

Still, he makes himself keep silent.

And in turn, just like he did the last two nights, Geralt keeps watching him.

Oh, nothing as overt as actual glances being thrown his way, but Jaskier is fully aware of the witcher absolutely staring at him from the corner of his eye, keeping Jaskier in his peripheral vision the entire time they are settled at the fire.

Geralt's focus on him is weighty, almost _tangible_ , doesn’t waver even as the flames of their fire start dying down. It’s... unnerving but also oddly thrilling at the same time, almost a little heady.

Because Jaskier doesn't think he's ever been Geralt's sole focus for any extended amount of time before. Never mind that he absolutely doesn't get why he suddenly is _now_.

And as it grows darker still, the fire between them burning out, only the low glow of embers still casting the barest sheen from their fire pit, much too dark for Jaskier to see anything any longer. All the while fully aware that Geralt can still see rather perfectly right now, unbothered by the waning light, knows that his witcher abilities let him see even in almost perfect darkness.

As Jaskier can still feel that same, weighty stare on him.

He honestly has no idea what to make of this newest dynamic between them. Because none of this makes any sense whatsoever. Right?

But as he stretches out on his bedroll, there is a strange thought forming at the back of Jaskier’s mind, unbidden and honestly ridiculous. A thought on why Geralt might still be around _despite_ having made it so perfectly clear that he sees Jaskier as nothing but a burden dragging on him, despite him supposedly being the reason for all of the witcher's problems in the past few decades of his life.

Because Jaskier was about to give him a clear break, fully intending to just pack his bags and simply get lost. As requested.

So, _why didn't he let me_?

There is simply no reason for Geralt to still be here, not now that he already said his piece. There is nothing keeping him here. Nothing to make him stay.

Nothing beyond Jaskier himself.

Jaskier stares up at the dark canopy of trees stretching out above him, eyes a little wide as his thoughts keep going down a path he hadn't so much as _considered_ even just hours earlier. Because the mere idea of what is currently running through his head should seem absolutely ridiculous.

But he simply can’t help but wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Jaskier somehow ending up having to work through their emotions for both of them, while Geralt remains his usual, not-at-all-helpful, verbally-challenged self. Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> And thanks so much for all your comments and kudos!!


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Jaskier dawdles as he packs his things, turns the usual five minutes of packing into fifteen, almost twenty.

And once he is finally done - can't think of any more excuses to let him waste time, after already having repacked his bag twice under the pretense of needing to reorganize his stuff - he glances over at Geralt.

Geralt who is standing off to the side next to Roach, calmly petting the mare, murmuring a few words to her as he always tends to do, far more talkative with his horse than with any human he meets. Geralt who had finished collecting his things before Jaskier even fully made it out of his bedroll and who has never been particularly patient with Jaskier's usual morning dawdling.

And Jaskier had dragged his feet in packing, _for the sole reason_ of seeing whether the witcher would take off once he was done packing himself, if Jaskier took too long to get ready.

You know, just in case it is actual coincidence that has them traveling in the same direction and not because of something else having Geralt still sticking around. Like that _other_ reason that has been ghosting through Jaskier’s mind that had occurred to him in a rather incredulous flash of insight last night.

The thought that Geralt might be here _because_ Jaskier is here. The thought that the witcher might actually be actively _following_ him.

…

_Let me reemphasize that._

The absolutely ludicrous notion that Geralt of Rivia – the White Wolf, witcher extraordinaire, protector of dragons and psychotic mages and innocents everywhere – might be actively following _him_ , Jaskier, bard who talks too much and is utterly useless in the wilderness and apparently drags Geralt from one crappy situation to the next.

The mere concept seems absolutely ridiculous.

Because that’s simply not how they work, never has been. It’s _Jaskier_ who follows Geralt, Jaskier who – whenever they have split ways for a while – at some point starts asking around about the White Wolf’s current location and then purposely puts himself in Geralt’s path to once more meet up. Ever since the moment they met – ever since Jaskier spotted him at the back of the tavern and in some brilliant flash of insight decided that the witcher in all his brooding glory was exactly the muse he had been waiting for – it’s always been _Jaskier_ who seeks out _Geralt_.

That’s how it’s always been, a plain fact of his life.

So, the mere notion that this might suddenly have changed, that the well-established dynamic between them of several decades of friendship might suddenly have shifted, is now screwing rather effectively with his view of the world in general, of their friendship in particular, and of himself specifically.

It’s also an idea that Jaskier needs to rid himself of as soon as he possibly can. Lest he be getting ideas about _what this might mean_. Yeah. That way lays a dangerous road of even _more_ ludicrous notions where their friendship is concerned.

So.

This morning he woke with the determination to debunk those ideas in their entirety. So, he’d dawdled in packing his things to see what Geralt would do, wanted to see whether the witcher would maybe leave him behind if he took too long to get ready, as Geralt has certainly done before, leaving it to Jaskier to catch up on the road. Just to help him get these newest notions out of his head.

Alas, apparently not this time.

Because it’s been twenty minutes and Geralt is still waiting. Despite the fact that – according to the witcher’s own diatribe up on that mountain – there really shouldn’t be any reason for Geralt to wait for him at all.

It honestly seems rather absurd, but it is really starting to look like – after years of Jaskier tagging along on Geralt’s adventures like an admittedly somewhat overly eager puppy – now it’s apparently Geralt who is following _him_ for once.

And Jaskier really doesn’t know what to do with the mere thought of that, much less the _reality_ of it.

“I’m going to Temeria,” he announces rather abruptly as he finally straightens with his pack in hand, lute on his back, knows it comes out sounding almost like a challenge, like this is the point in time for Geralt to declare his own – most likely differing – travel plans.

It only gets him a glance but nothing beyond that, the witcher just remaining entirely silent as he calmly pats Roach’s neck, eyes on Jaskier. Simply waiting. For him.

Which is just...

Yeah, bard or no, rhetorically gifted or not, Jaskier honestly has no words for any of this.

_Although, honestly, how can someone without any outwardly apparent emotions send so many mixed signals at the same time._

So, with another glance thrown the witcher's way, Jaskier finally simply starts back towards the path, does his utter best to ignore the barely-there sound of the witcher’s steps starting up behind him. He clears the forest quickly, their camp having not been all that far from the road, and determinedly turns right as soon as he steps back onto the path.

"Temeria lays to the left," Geralt directs calmly from behind him, Roach's reins in hand as he follows a couple of steps behind him.

Jaskier doesn't react beyond promptly turning on his heel to start in the indicated direction instead, his thoughts preoccupied with these newest revelations and all the inherent implications, mind whirling at having his supposed-to-be-utterly-ludicrous notions actually confirmed. He doesn't spare the witcher another glance but still can't help but listen for the familiar sound of Geralt's quiet steps and Roach’s hoofs on the gravel road behind him.

As – in the absolutely most stunning role reversal _ever_ – Geralt of Rivia continues to calmly follows after _Jaskier_. Does so easily. Like Geralt following him is natural. Obvious. Self-evident.

Something which - may Jaskier just say - is most certainly news to _him_.

+++

That's how it goes for another two days.

Jaskier leads and Geralt follows. Well, 'follow' for a certain value at least, seeing as Geralt keeps nudging him in the correct direction, keeps picking out the place for their camps at night, keeps choosing the path they should travel to get them to Jaskier’s rather vague goal of the country Temeria.

But his point still stands. Because Geralt is traveling beside him without even having asked yet exactly _where_ in Temeria Jaskier is aiming to go. Not that he has an actual plan anyway.

And traveling with this new dynamic is weird. Mostly because it isn’t really weird at all.

They keep following their established routines and everything between them is almost the same as always. But at the same time, it’s just not.

Not after what Geralt said up on the mountain. Not after Jaskier tried to leave. Not after Geralt refused to let him do anything of the sort.

Something between them has shifted.

And, _of course_ , Jaskier knew even up on that mountain that Geralt had just been lashing out, had been hurt at Yennefer’s departure, had been grieving at the loss of someone he’d been in a sort-of-relationship with for years now. But despite knowing all that, Jaskier had still assumed that Geralt wouldn’t have said anything he didn’t actually mean, had been convinced that there must be some truth to the witcher’s words. If only because he’s never known Geralt to say anything but the utter truth in his eyes, not even in anger.

But… It’s been almost a week days since that whole dragon-hunt debacle and Geralt is still traveling right beside him, doesn’t seem to intend to go anywhere else either. Which rather goes to prove Jaskier might have been wrong about his assumptions after all.

It’s not even like Jaskier can accuse him of acting like nothing at all happened, of trying to brush the events on that mountain aside. Because Geralt following him at all is most certainly a rather clear acknowledgement of the fact that something did indeed happen, that something between them changed.

And after almost a week of this odd same-but-different dynamic between them, Jaskier almost wants to sigh in fond exasperation at his witcher’s emotional constipation.

It’s just so _like_ Geralt to acknowledge his own misstep of lashing out at Jaskier, of blaming him for everything that has been going wrong in the witcher’s life ever since they met, by _now_ following him wherever he wants to go. 

Because, of course, Geralt would think that a simple sorry wouldn’t be enough as an apology. No, Geralt has always been a man of action. Figures that would also apply for any apologies he makes.

And honestly, what would Jaskier even need a spoken apology for if he can have _this_ instead?

Geralt’s current behavior is more than enough of an apology in his eyes. If anything, it's actually worth far more than if Geralt had simply said sorry and then just went on as before. Because the witcher actually following him wherever he wants to go is honestly quite the reassurance, willingly contradicting his own words – having accused Jaskier of being responsible for dragging Geralt from one bad situation to the next – and so easily disproving his own claim of wanting to get rid of him... 

Unable to put his emotions into words Geralt may be, but the witcher sure as hell does not flinch away from _showing_ them in his actions instead.

And, quite honestly, in Jaskier's eyes that’s kind of _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This fic just keeps on growing and growing without my say-so… But I'm really hoping to keep it to these five chapters now. Well, I'm going to try my best, at least XD
> 
> Would still love to know what you think :D
> 
> And thanks so much for all your wonderful comments and kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

Jaskier is having fun.

At Geralt's expense. Well, more at the expense of the witcher's patience, but still.

It's some time before noon, they just left Redania's border behind them, and he is fully aware that he already used up the last of Geralt's patience several hours back.

And usually, Jaskier might not be quite this brazen about annoying him, but if the witcher is going to keep this up - whatever 'this' newly shifted dynamic between them actually is - then Jaskier is going to make full use of the leeway it apparently affords him.

By talking. And talking. And _talking_.

He's been cheerfully ignoring Geralt's grumbling about his constant chatter and never-ending questions, and instead just keeps needling the witcher for more information about the dragon hunt and all the bits Jaskier himself hadn't actually been around to witness. And whenever Geralt doesn't answer his questions, Jaskier promptly proceeds to making up ridiculous verses supposedly for his newest song until the witcher gets so frustrated with the absurdity of his storytelling that he finally cuts in with the _truth_ of what actually happened.

Only for Jaskier to note down the information and then cheerfully move on to the next aspect of the story to figure out, by claiming something ludicrous about the witcher's latest hunt, continue to embellish his story further and further, until Geralt can't take it anymore and simply tells him what actually happened if only to shut him up.

_Not that it ever does, but points to him for trying._

It might admittedly be a somewhat odd sort of entertainment but Jaskier learned long ago that _annoying_ the information out of him really is the only way to get a straight answer out of Geralt at all. So, if anything, the witcher only has himself to blame.

Jaskier feels his lips tilt up into an impish grin as he cheerfully strums another chord, " _Through dragon's hellish flame, the White Wolf took aim_." Two quick chord changes, building the suspense. " _Gleaming swords, the witcher's roar. Now hell's beast shall breathe nevermore_."

A huff from behind him, which Jaskier merrily ignores.

"That's not what happened, Jaskier," Geralt then grumbles lowly.

Jaskier just continues his humming entirely undeterred, feeling his grin widen at the sigh of utterly resigned exasperation from behind him.

Serves his witcher right.

+++

It's later that same afternoon when their dynamic changes again, shifts just a little further.

The moment they step into the next town, the people on the street take one look at Geralt, their gazes rather obviously catching on the distinctive white hair and the golden eyes and the two swords on his back, eyes widening in recognition, before two of them are already taking off down the street.

And Jaskier already knows what's coming, knows that within minutes one of the village elders - or the mayor or whoever else runs this place - will seek out Geralt with a purse full of coins and some odd and overly embellished description of some monster or other that is apparently plaguing this place, more-or-less demanding Geralt do something about it.

Jaskier has learned that no matter where they go there is always _something_ , that there is not a single settlement on the entire continent that doesn't blame some monster or other for whatever problems their town might currently be having.

At least, these days people have also heard of ‘the White Wolf’ - more often than not know him from Jaskier’s songs, a fact that makes him rather giddy every time he so much as thinks about it - and the ordinary village folk even tend to be rather grateful when it is Geralt and not some other witcher riding through the gates of their city, grateful that it's the White Wolf who'll be 'taking care' of their problem, no matter how much they still seem to despise witchers in general.

The point is that Jaskier knows exactly what's coming, has witnessed this exact same thing numerous times before.

Thus, he isn’t the least bit surprised when they barely make it to the local tavern to get themselves a hot meal, before an elderly man in comparatively fancy clothing is already approaching Geralt, jingling purse clutched tightly in his hand, eyes wide and fixed in nervous apprehension on the witcher, but still fully expecting Geralt to take care of their - real or imagined - monster infestation.

But, as he said, there is nothing new about any of that, nothing that would affect their usual dynamic even in the slightest.

No, the thing that's _definitely_ _new_ , that has their dynamic unexpectedly shift once more, is the glance Geralt then throws Jaskier's way while the rather rotund mayor in front of him keeps rambling on about ‘talons as sharp as a knife’ and ‘a maw so wide it can swallow you whole’.

Because. There is a _question_ in Geralt’s eyes as he looks at Jaskier.

A question that is neither about accepting the mission – Geralt never turns down anyone asking for his help, wouldn't this time either – nor about asking Jaskier’s opinion or his permission or whether he wants to come along or even his general thoughts on the matter.

No, the question isn't actually about the mission at all. Because as he watches the witcher's eyes flick upwards, towards the stairs leading to the next floor, rather obviously gesturing to the offered rentable rooms upstairs, Jaskier is utterly baffled to realize that his witcher is currently asking him whether he is planning to stay here while Geralt goes hunting, and - more importantly - whether Jaskier intends to _still be here_ by the time he gets back from his hunt.

Which is just...

 _Not once_ since they've known each other has Geralt ever given any indication he might worry about Jaskier possibly ever leaving _him_ behind.

He swallows, blinks, tries to wrap his head about this newest revelation... Only to almost snort in incredulous amusement when - barely a few seconds later - Geralt then proceeds to raise a rather impatient eyebrow at him, emphasizing that he is still waiting for a reply. As if to complain about Jaskier not being quick enough about his response to the witcher's - still very much non-verbalized - inquiry.

 _Yeah, because clearly **I'm** the one with the communication difficulties between us_, he thinks sardonically.

However, then Jaskier sighs slightly, inwardly calls himself an absolute sucker for golden eyes, and finally turns towards the barman to inquire about renting a room for the night instead of just asking for a meal like they had originally intended to do in this place.

And, _of course_ , by the time Jaskier has completed his transaction with the barman and turns back around, Geralt is already gone, already off on his hunt, not even having bothered to say goodbye.

 _Honestly_. Jaskier finally gives in and shakes his head in utter exasperation.

+++

Geralt returns a few hours later in the early evening.

He is covered in blood, monster bits, and... _something_ undefinable that smells rather vile and Jaskier honestly doesn't even really want to know what it is exactly.

And as usual, the moment the witcher steps through the door of the tavern, his eyes cut straight to Jaskier, clearly making sure he is still there - which is most certainly new - all the while making sure he is okay - which admittedly isn't new at all - before he actually starts making his way across the room towards him.

Though - while Geralt himself is distracted by glaring the town's mayor into handing him the promised coin - Jaskier also lets his eyes quickly scan over the witcher, checking for possible injuries, relieved to see that Geralt doesn't seem to be hurt this time.

 _Be grateful for small mercies and all that_ , he thinks as he watches the mayor make himself scarce.

"So, what was it this time?" Jaskier asks cheerfully as soon as it's just the two of them at the bar, easily reaching for the coin purse that Geralt is clearly leaving for him to tuck away into his own pocket instead of getting it covered in the muck of whatever is currently on in armor.

"A zeugl," Geralt just grunts. "Living in the sewers."

Which would explain what Geralt is currently covered in.

"Oh, ew," Jaskier comments with a shudder. Before grinning brightly, "Well, I'm glad I didn't insist on coming with you this time around then."

The dark glower Geralt promptly sends him at that comment is honestly rather impressive, would likely make most mortals quake in their boots, _actually_ makes the barman - who is standing behind the bar only slightly to Jaskier's left and is thus unfortunate enough to be caught in the general effect of the witcher's glare - give a rather terrified squeak before frantically skedaddling off to some other parts of his own establishment.

Jaskier even sympathizes with the man, has witnessed Geralt's glower sending far braver and far stronger men running at the mere sight of it.

He has actually been reliably informed - on numerous occasions by numerous people - that Geralt's glares are apparently rather terrifying. Not that Jaskier would know. He finds the witcher's scary-face mostly just kind of adorable, if only because - in contrast to most everyone else - Jaskier is also fully aware that Geralt would never actually _follow through_ on all the threats implied in his glowers. His witcher is such a softie on the inside, he'd never so much as attempt harming anyone weaker than himself. Which, admittedly, kind of applies to pretty much everyone on the continent... But his point still stands.

So, Jaskier just reacts to Geralt's glare by giving him a particularly bright grin in return. And then, he promptly turns fully towards the witcher to start pestering him for details on his latest monster hunt, cheerfully intent on milking that leeway still so clearly being afforded to him - as their ever-evolving friendship continues to change just a little further - to its absolute fullest. Well, Geralt still kind of owes him anyway.

And there is just something about all of this, about the way Geralt apparently considers it not only noteworthy but also worth _acknowledging_ that Jaskier chose to wait for him here, never mind how him sticking around kind of just goes without saying in Jaskier's eyes. But somehow, Jaskier staying behind to wait - which is truly nothing new at all - now seems to have changed into Geralt specifically _coming back_ to him.

It's nice. The potential of it, the potential for change and affirmation and new/old dynamics and maybe even a couple of new routines to add to their already rather extensive list of ‘as we always do’ habits.

 _Now. If only Geralt were able to actually communicate his thoughts on the matter beyond a couple of glares or the occasional grunt, that would be just **splendid**_ , Jaskier thinks sardonically.

Alas, beside him, Geralt remains silent as ever where he is leaning back against the bar, his stare still menacing though now having moved on to include the entirety of the room around them, likely to make sure none of the other patrons might take the chattering bard at his side as an invitation to approach as well and possibly even be getting ideas about trying to _talk_ to him.

Not that Jaskier is any way complaining about that. To the contrary. He actually quite likes not having to share his witcher's attention.

Yeah, Jaskier isn't complaining at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, more shifting dynamics and not much else :D And please forgive my less-than-elegant rhyming in this. But as it turns out my use of the English language (and quite likely of any other language not actually my own) rather clearly ends at trying to write any sort of poetry XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> And thanks so much for all your wonderful comments and kudos!!


	5. Chapter 5

They share Jaskier's room at the inn that night.

It's something they are more than used to, sharing a room, sharing a cave somewhere in the mountain, sharing a camp site out in the wood. After so many years of traveling together, they are simply used to sleeping beside each other.

And Jaskier isn't above admitting that it _still_ makes him a little giddy to see Geralt fall asleep next to him, to see the trust his witcher has in him these days.

Sure, he knows that at the slightest unfamiliar sound Geralt will immediately snap fully awake, knows that the witcher never actually lets himself fall asleep to the point of entirely losing awareness of the outside world, that he might actually be unable to do so, possibly due to his training or his mutation.

But back when they first started traveling together - or more like, when Jaskier first started stubbornly following Geralt around undeterred by the witcher’s grumbling about that very fact - he remembers how Geralt never once fell asleep before him, how the witcher would instantly snap awake at even the slightest sound Jaskier made, eyes immediately on him even through complete darkness, fully alert, his gaze weighty, assessing. Because Jaskier's presence had been a disturbance to him back then, an unknown, not to be trusted.

However, not anymore.

These days, Jaskier can toss and turn in his sleeping place as much as he likes, can get up to answer nature's call, can even get out his lute to strum a few chords if he so pleases, and Geralt will sleep on in that sort-of-doze of his.

Because Jaskier registers _safe_ these days to the witcher, just like any noise that Roach makes as she grazes a couple of feet away from them, no longer a to-be-alarmed-by disturbance to Geralt's not-quite-awake mind.

And, boy, if that hadn't made Jaskier rather endlessly giddy quite a number of years back when he had realized as much.

But the point is, sharing a room is just normal to them, nothing noteworthy about it. They have spent too many nights sleeping next to each other outside, or crammed into the only rentable room in some tiny backwater village somewhere, to be bothered by it any longer.

And they do the same that night.

Well, first Geralt has a bath. Because, for one, after his hunt through the sewers Geralt admittedly kind of needs it. And, secondly, because _of course_ he does.

It's almost humorous just how much Geralt adores his baths, revels in them to a point that Jaskier would almost call it a bit of an obsession. If it weren't for the fact that - ensconced in hot water in the-usually-far-too-small-for-a-man-of-his-build-tub - Geralt always seems about as relaxed as he ever lets himself be at all. And Jaskier couldn't possibly try to put him off his bath time by pointing out this rather obvious weakness of his.

So, tonight he doesn't even badger Geralt with questions while the witcher soaks in the hot water, just settles somewhere off to the side, somewhere to the left of the tub, trying out a new melody that came to mind earlier while waiting for Geralt to get back, already composing the lyrics to yet another song about the White Wolf’s adventures and his many valiant deeds and protecting humanity to the best of his ability. For no other reason than that he _can_.

It’s the thing most people just don't _get_ when they see him following Geralt around, when they comment derisively on the bard with the strange hobby of trailing after a witcher, either tending to make fun of Jaskier or calling him suicidal or some... _other_ less than complimentary descriptors.

People never seem to realize that Jaskier is exactly where he wants to be.

The thing is, he grew up listening to ballads and stories and tales telling of human bravery in the face of true evil, of man's courage when going up against fiendish creatures, of humanity always emerging the victor when pitted against the depravity of the monsters they are faced with.

So, when Jaskier had left his home to find his muse, to search for adventures and stories to base his own songs on, he had looked for those valiant knights from the stories, the ones in the shining armor who will always come to any innocent's aid, the ones who somehow always know who the good guys and the bad guys are, the ones with the immutable morals, who always come out on top no matter the adversity they are faced with because their honor will not let them accept defeat at the hand of evil.

Jaskier hadn't found a single one.

He’d visited any of the larger towns strewn across the continent, spent quite a bit of time at various courts, met royals and knights, adventurers and other bards, listened to their stories boasting of incredible feats, songs and tales about the self-proclaimed hero’s effortless defeat of horrors beyond anyone’s imagination at their very own hand.

However, it hadn't taken him long at all to realize that not one of them was what the stories had promised him, that the title of knight said disappointingly little about a man's character, that the title of king tended to say even less.

So, he’d continued traveling, started visiting smaller places, random little towns along the main roads, at that point rather disillusioned with his own trade and other bards’ apparent propensity for making the heroes of their stories out to be so much _more_ than they turned out to be in reality.

And then, in some backwater town of no significant note, far away from the big cities and royal courts of any kind, he'd met Geralt.

Geralt who prefers dark leather over a shiny armor, who never mentions - much less boasts about - his own feats, who quietly works his way across the continent as he cuts down threats, kills monsters, protects innocents, does everything the oh-so-brave humans cower away from, never gaining any thanks in return but still undeterred in his determination to help humanity where their own weakness has them falter.

Jaskier has actually wondered more than once how many of those wonderfully embellished stories told at the courts might actually be a witcher’s feats, their tales simply misappropriated by bards, rewritten with a human hero instead, just to better appeal to the masses.

Which is also how Jaskier’s new life goal was born, the goal of making sure that Geralt’s deeds become known as his own, that the name of the White Wolf will become synonymous with honor and a helping hand to those who need it, the goal of teaching humanity just what sort of white knight they actually have in Geralt.

Because somehow, the witcher – the supposedly emotionless, barely human, mutated monster from the stories – turned out to be far more of a white knight than any _actual_ knight Jaskier has come across to this day.

Honestly, if you ask him, people are absolute morons for believing that witchers have no feelings. If anything, he thinks there is a fairly good chance that witchers might actually feel _more_ than the average human does, that they might be far more acutely aware of their every instinct and emotion. It’s just that they’ve been taught to suppress any outward reactions to what might be going on inside.

Well, at least that seems to be the case for _his_ witcher. Because Geralt sure as hell is everything _but_ emotionless.

Geralt who is the very embodiment of compassion, who will help anyone who asks for his aid, will always defend those who can’t do it themselves, always on the side of the good guys, never swayed by words or coin or threats.

Jaskier's witcher is _everything_ those stories of brave knights, stories of pure hearts and unwavering bravery in the face of adversity, promised him.

Geralt who takes his word as his bond, never speaks an actual lie and will rather risk his life than break a promise he has made. Geralt who is an absolute bleeding heart but takes care to never let it show outwardly beyond his ever-continuing efforts to protect anyone who can’t do as much themselves, _despite_ the way humanity as a whole tends to treat him. Geralt who takes care to never let anyone close enough for them to weasel past his defenses.

Which is also kind of Jaskier’s main problem right now.

Because he himself has never been particularly good at keeping an emotional distance from anyone, much less someone he actually likes. Or rather, he’s always utterly failed at doing anything of the sort.

Jaskier knows he is too trusting, tends to take even a stranger's word as absolute truth, tends to think that everyone he meets is a true friends of his no matter how often that assumption has been disproven over the years. He tends to fall headfirst into infatuation with everyone who so much as grants him a smile, and he always gives his heart utterly freely, undeterred by all the heartache that particular character trait of his has brought him over the years.

So, yes, Jaskier is perfectly aware of his own weaknesses, thank you very much.

He strums another chord as he glances over at where the witcher is still ensconced in the tub, his white hair falling over the edge as he has his head leaned back slightly, looking so very relaxed compared to his usual uncompromising, unwavering alertness, his eyes heavy-lidded, barely open in golden slits as he absently stares up at the ceiling.

Thing is, the two of them have been friends for a long time now, his friendship with Geralt actually the closest bond Jaskier has had in his entire life, steadfast, immutable in a way none of his other relationships have ever been, no matter how many lovers Jaskier has taken over the years.

And he knows he likely would have fallen for Geralt decades ago, is even honest enough to admit - at least to himself - that he’s had a latent crush on his witcher ever since that first mission-almost-gone-wrong, where Jaskier had first realized that stories do not necessarily do supposed monsters justice, having found himself back to back with Geralt, tied up by elves, and listened in complete bafflement to the supposedly-so-fearsome witcher ask Filavandrel not for his own life but that Jaskier be spared instead…

Yeah, his crush had been kind of inevitable, simply unavoidable when traveling with someone as pure at heart, as valiant and honestly noble in a way no one else Jaskier ever met has shown themselves to be.

He’d actually challenge _anyone_ to spend some time with Geralt and _not_ develop a bit of a crush on the witcher. Even Yennefer - psychotic, power-hungry nutcase that she is - hadn’t been able to entirely help herself. And if _that_ doesn’t go to prove Jaskier’s point then he doesn’t know what would.

But the point is, it has always been Geralt’s standoffish, emotional reticence that has kept a certain amount of distance between them.

And _now_ , Jaskier is admittedly more than a little afraid just where his emotions might take him, what with Geralt having apparently decided to let down his guard around him now of all times. Because even if it is just the witcher’s way of apologizing for what he said up on that mountain top, Jaskier’s heart surely won't care that the sudden change between them is just meant as recompense having lashed out at Jaskier, an apology for trying to push him away. No, his heart truly won’t care at all.

He once more glances over at Geralt still in the tub, takes in the sight of his witcher still so utterly relaxed, his guard so clearly down even in Jaskier’s presence.

Jaskier barely keeps in a sigh.

_Boy, I am in so much trouble._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... a purely introspective chapter. This entire thing wasn't planned at all and happened entirely without my input and also cheerfully changed this fic from 'can be read as' pre-slash to just simple pre-slash... Oh, well XD
> 
> Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> And thanks so much for all your comments and kudos! You guys are wonderful <3


	6. Chapter 6

Jaskier listens with half an ear as some guy over at the bar talks about some sort of monster problem in Ecren, two villages over from the one they are at right now.

He doesn’t bother going over there to join the other patrons surrounding the guy, asking questions, all of them oohing and aahing over his increasingly blood-curdling claims about some winged sort of monster terrorizing said town. But Jaskier can definitely see the way Geralt, sitting across from him at their table, lunch in front of him, clearly listening in on the gruesome – though definitely embellished – story as well.

Jaskier glances back down at his own lunch, frowns slightly even as he continues eating.

Geralt and him still haven’t talked, have instead continued to follow their old routines with a couple of added new habits, all the while acting like nothing between them changed at all.

But the thing is just… Putting aside the rather confounding realization that Geralt apparently intends to follow him wherever he wants to go, Jaskier is fully aware that helping people by way of hunting monsters is simply what his witcher _does_ , what he lives for.

Which only makes Geralt’s apparent willingness to put his monster hunting even temporarily on hold, just so he’ll be able to follow Jaskier on his aimless wanderings instead, even more… _notable_. Come to think of it, the fact that the witcher has given absolutely no indication he’d stop following him even if it were to lead them _away_ from an apparent monster problem…

Now, _that_ is a truly rather baffling thought. _Nice_ , but still baffling.

He glances up at Geralt, lets his eyes quickly run over the witcher sitting at the other side of the table. Dark, metal-studded armor, brooding scowl on his face, swords in their sheath leaning against the wall beside him, radiating ‘fuck off’ vibes to anyone who might come near as he always does, seeming to fill their entire side of the tavern with his presence alone, all the while _also_ somehow just vanishing into the background at the same time.

Jaskier doesn’t know whether that particular skill - this ability to disappear from everyone’s notice, despite also being everyone’s focus - is a witcher thing or just a Geralt thing. Either way, he always finds it rather fascinating to watch.

Another second, before Geralt clearly feels eyes on himself, glancing up, gaze unerringly meeting Jaskier’s.

A second of silence.

Before Geralt is tilting his head slightly, eyes on him, gaze assessing. _Reading_ Jaskier.

“Hmm,” he finally hums - like replying to a question Jaskier very much didn’t ask, an entire conversation in a single grunt - before he casually turns his focus back to his meal.

And what does it say about _them_ that Jaskier still understands Geralt’s unspoken response to his unasked question anyway. Never mind the fact that just the thought of them being able to read each other so well is making Jaskier feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He huffs slightly in exasperation at himself as he finally returns his focus to his own lunch.

_Honestly, who am I kidding. I was never going to stay mad at him for any extended amount of time anyway._

Thus, it really shouldn’t surprise anyone when – as soon as they leave the tavern behind and step back onto the road to continue their travel – Jaskier just glances up at Geralt. “So,” he inquires not-quite-casually. “Which way is Ecren?"

The witcher blinks at him once, before he tilts his chin in a clear gesture towards the road leading to the left, and Jaskier just nods and easily steers his feet in the indicated direction.

And Geralt simply follows – as has become the still-somewhat-confounding norm these days – without comment. But Jaskier can also see some of the tension about the witcher's shoulders finally releasing.

The fact that Geralt relaxing also has _Jaskier_ relax is of course entirely beside the point.

He almost wants to snort at himself in self-recrimination. Because, man, is he ever a sucker for those golden eyes.

+++

And that's how it goes.

After Geralt takes care of the Ekhidna apparently terrorizing Ecren, they just continue on as always. They travel, make camp in the woods or stay at some village over night, listen for places complaining about some monster problem or other, slowly making their way through Redania and into Temeria.

It's been almost two weeks ever since that hunt on the mountain and they settle rather easily into this new/old routine, falling back into established patterns even with the definitely somewhat shifted dynamics between them, as Jaskier continues to kind-of-lead and Geralt kind-of-follows.

The fact that Jaskier coincidentally always chooses to ‘lead’ in whatever direction Geralt seems to want to go, well, that’s just entirely beside the point.

Strangely enough, aside from that, nothing much really changes between them.

Their routines are still the same, their - admittedly rather one-sided - banter is still the same, and the only thing that remains notably different is the glance Geralt throws his way whenever he is about to take off on yet another monster hunt, checking whether Jaskier intends to still be here by the time Geralt gets back.

But even that small difference still somehow makes their dynamic more... _balanced_ in a way, certainly far more give-and-take than it used to be even just a few weeks ago. If only because Jaskier doesn’t wake in the mornings, wondering whether Geralt might have left him behind during the night as he has done more than once over the years they’ve known each other. Jaskier has never had that sort of certainty before.

It's nice.

And at this point, he has kind of given up on the idea that they are ever going to actually talk about what happened up on that mountain, much less about what has been happening since or how things keep shifting between them.

 _Then again, it's not like we ever actually discussed our friendship before_ , Jaskier thinks with an internal shrug as he watches Geralt more or less dunk himself, armor and all, in a nearby river, apparently intent on ridding himself of the worst of the muck from his earlier fight against some truly humongous rotting dog/rat-antlered-monster thing. _So, why would he see any need to start talking about whatever is between us_ now _?_

And, it’s not like Jaskier actually _needs_ him to talk about it. He can read his forever-taciturn witcher just fine, even without putting Geralt through trying – and quite likely failing – to actually put his emotions into words.

So, yes, Jaskier is perfectly happy with them just continuing to travel together, same as before but somehow also easily making room for these new dynamics between them.

Another week passes and they are well into Temeria now, the road flattening out almost entirely, tall, slender fir trees starting to overtake the scenery, as the days start growing colder, fall coming to its end and winter drawing ever-nearer, snow speckling the ground on some days, hoar frost greeting them in the mornings.

And, usually, this would be the time of year where Jaskier would leave Geralt to take off on his own, fully aware that his own human constitution really makes him less-than-suited for the mostly-outdoors-sort-of-lifestyle-no-matter-the-season the witcher tends to favor.

Alas, this time around, Geralt is giving absolutely no indication of actually intending to leave him behind at some warm, cozy tavern to continue on without him. As he usually does once winter draws near and Jaskier starts complaining too much about the cold for his taste.

Quite to the contrary. Geralt not only doesn’t take off on his own, but he also doesn't even grumble about them sleeping at inns several times in a row instead of camping out in the woods as he definitely prefers. And, well, there is simply no way Jaskier will ever be the one to tell him to go on without him. Yeah, no.

Thus, Jaskier just sighs at his own ridiculousness and – absolutely unwilling as he is to send Geralt to continue traveling on his own – goes to buy himself a more-winter-suited sleeping bag and an actual coat to protect himself from the worst of the chill in the next somewhat-larger town they come across.

Good thing he did, too.

Because with Geralt's less-than-predictable monster-hunting endeavors, it’s rather inevitable that they get stuck sleeping outside at some point, unable to make it to an inn by nightfall.

The first time it happens, it’s because of the random archespore they come across, growing at the side of the road. And Geralt has already sprinted past him, merrily hacking away at the thing before Jaskier has even registered its presence at all.

Nothing new there either.

The entire spectacle barely gives Jaskier pause, long since having stopped worrying about any monsters that might cross their path, just as long as Geralt is somewhere in the general vicinity. Because there is no monster out there that could possibly ever best Geralt. That’s just a simple fact in Jaskier’s mind.

However, the fight against the creepily weird monster-plant thing takes Geralt quite a while, enough so that - by the time he is finally done - the sun is already setting, and it’s clear that they won’t make it to the next village before night fully falls.

So instead, Geralt goes to search for a pace to set up their camp, settling on a small overhang created by the roots of a humongous fallen tree, mostly protected from the rather freezing wind by smaller trees surrounding the little space.

And as he wraps himself in his coat and his sleeping bag - already just a breath away from shivering despite the rather lively fire burning barely a two steps away from him, his back already cold from the freezing wind running through their little clearing - Jaskier is honestly less-than-enthused to find his suspicions, that sleeping outside in winter really is just as truly uncomfortable as he had always suspected, confirmed.

However, he withdraws that particular assessment _promptly and_ _in its entirety_ just a few minutes later.

When Geralt finally gets done cleaning his swords, sets his things aside, pats Roach goodnight, and then calmly moves across their camp towards him.

When, barely ten minutes into Jaskier shivering quietly in his sleeping bag, he then – to his utter, speechless surprise – feels Geralt settling himself in the spot right behind him, an arm reaching around his waist, pulling Jaskier - wrapped-up as he is, sleeping bag and all - in against his chest, holds him there.

No words. Not a single remark as Geralt apparently decides to make himself Jaskier’s personal windbreaker against the freezing cold draft tearing through their camp.

The witcher’s arm just remains firmly wrapped around him, holding him against a broad chest, a single drawn-out breath against the back of his head, and then the witcher just stills entirely, clearly ready to fall into that almost-sleep-sort-of-doze of his.

Without so much as a single comment.

Jaskier is left blinking rapidly, speechlessly, staring sightlessly and _in utter confusion_ at the fire still burning merrily in front of him, unable to move but suddenly so very wide-awake, sleep the furthest thing from his mind, everything in him helplessly focused on the feeling of Geralt wrapped around him, the witcher’s solid chest pressed against his back, seeming to give off heat even through his sleeping bag, a muscled arm wrapped around him, calm and even breaths ruffling the hair at the back of his head...

And just… _What?_

…

Don’t get him wrong, it’s not that Jaskier isn’t grateful for Geralt’s help in making sure he doesn’t freeze to death over night, that he doesn’t lose any of his toes or fingers or whatever it is the witcher thinks he’s doing.

But still… _What?_

Jaskier blinks some more at absolutely nothing, notes to himself almost absently – and at least somewhat incredulously – that he most certainly isn’t feeling _cold_ anymore right now. Like, at all. Quite to the contrary.

But the witcher just remains solidly pressed against his back, his arm wrapped around Jaskier, an immovable steel band around him, and, _by the gods_ , if having Geralt so close doesn’t make him feel safer than he ever has before in his life.

 _Now, if only I could figure out how to **breathe** right again, that would be just grand_, Jaskier thinks bewilderedly, caught somewhere between hysteria – because, let him repeat himself here… _What_? – and the sheer, utter _comfort_ of this.

The latter wins out in the end.

After another few minutes of Jaskier cheerfully panicking internally, he can feel already himself relaxing almost automatically, ends up falling asleep almost ridiculously easily, between one blink and the next, the cold suddenly not a problem any longer, Geralt a solid, reassuring shape against his back.

Of course, when Jaskier wakes the next morning, the witcher is already up and about, calmly gathering his things, simply going about his business as usual.

Like nothing of note happened at all.

Jaskier isn’t even surprised, not in the least. Although, as he tries to rub some feeling back into his near-frozen toes, he still watches the witcher loading his things onto Roach. Jaskier so desperately wants to talk, _needs_ to talk about it.

Still, in the end, he doesn’t quite dare to bring it up, too afraid that actually acknowledging it - outright and in the light of day - will prevent Geralt from ever doing anything of the sort again.

_And, well, that would certainly be a shame._

Because, his own confusion aside, Jaskier is admittedly quite a fan of that particular new sleeping arrangement of theirs, is rather disappointed to realize later that same day - as they share a room at an inn in some tiny village along the road, once more in their usual separate sleeping places - that ‘the arrangement’ apparently doesn’t transfer to whenever they sleep inside.

Rather regrettably so.

Because waking with near-frozen toes in the morning truly is an entirely insignificant price to pay if it also means he gets to sleep securely wrapped in Geralt’s arms. The warmth of that thought _alone_ absolutely makes up for potentially losing a couple of digits. And what does Jaskier need his toes for anyway.

So, if – from that point forward – Jaskier maybe starts actually rooting for some monster to attack them on the road, preferably somewhere between villages, in the hopes that Geralt’s subsequent fight might _then_ possibly delay their travel enough that they won't manage to reach the next settlement before nightfall, thereby forcing them to camp outside again instead, where Jaskier might then shiver – possibly somewhat exaggeratedly – in his sleeping bag, coincidentally reminding his witcher of Jaskier’s weaker, human constitution and how much he could really use some protection against the cold…

Well, then that's entirely his business, now isn't it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyup. Definite pre-slash now. And since that particular ship has clearly sailed, I decided to simply embrace the pre-slash in its entirety :3 Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> And there is finally only one more chapter to go, which will also include Ciri's appearance. Because, why only fix one thing if you can just go ahead and fix several things at once :3
> 
> Thanks so much for all your wonderful comments and kudos!


	7. Chapter 7

Jaskier is cheerfully chattering on about the newest song he’s writing to commemorate their latest – admittedly rather humorous – ‘monster-hunting’ adventure.

Around them, the ground is speckled with snow, the weather having grown quite a bit colder over the past couple of days, but the ever-denser growing forest surrounding them at least protecting them from the worst of it. Which is quite likely also the reason why Geralt decided to veer off the road about two days back in the first place.

Beside him, the witcher hasn’t spared him so much as a single grunt in reaction to the various rhymes Jaskier keeps coming up with to describe their contact with civilization, where Geralt had been hired by the mayor immediately upon their arrival to kill the three werewolves supposedly haunting the village.

Which had turned out not to be werewolves at all, but rather just a couple of local teenagers dressed up in furs, howling cheerfully at the moon, apparently delighted at their own creativity in scaring their fellow villagers to death every full moon. Though, the three kids had just about shat themselves in terror when they’d suddenly found themselves across from a sword-wielding, darkly scowling Geralt, eyes narrowed in exasperated irritation, the witcher having apparently known right away that there was no werewolf involved, if only due to the fact that no one in the village had been killed or even injured yet, just stories about vague sightings of the supposed monsters making their rounds in the village.

Although, the sight of Geralt reappearing in the doorway of the tavern, more or less hauling the three teenagers by the scruff of their necks, face stony and his glare at the ridiculousness of the entire situation so incredibly irritated that the mayor hadn’t even dared argue about paying the previously agreed upon coin, despite the fact that Geralt very much didn’t have to actually hunt a monster this time around.

The memory still makes Jaskier grin.

It had only gotten better, when the three kids had then somehow ended up cowering _behind_ Geralt - as though seeking protection - once they had spotted their mothers’ truly thunderous faces at the realization just what their kids had been up to.

The entire situation had been absolutely ridiculous and Jaskier has rarely if ever seen Geralt so utterly _exasperated_ at the idiocy of humans before. Well, it should make for a rather entertaining song at least.

Which is also likely the reason for Geralt’s current silence, as the witcher only ever deigns to comment on Jaskier’s music in order to complain about the inaccuracy of his storytelling. And Jaskier definitely won’t have to embellish this particular story. The truth is already laughable enough on its own.

So, Jaskier just chatters on, undeterred.

He doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the sudden change of terrain around them as he follows Geralt into a wide sort of clearing, a broad meadow stretching in between the forest behind them and the dense bulwark of trees in front of them. Almost like a natural border.

“We’re going around Brokilon,” Geralt suddenly speaks up, cutting right across Jaskier’s still ongoing monologue.

He blinks, takes a second to let his brain catch up with the rather abrupt change in topic.

“Oooh,” Jaskier finally goes in recognition, eyeing the suddenly-far-more-ominous-seeming tree line in front of him. Now that he knows just where they currently are, it seems rather obvious that there is something _off_ about it, the vegetation, even the climate itself seeming to be going against nature, lush green stretching out in front of him, instead of the snow and frost covering the forest behind them. “That’s Brokilon forest then?”

The witcher nods vaguely in assent and asserts again, “We’ll go around.”

At that, Jaskier actually feels his eyebrows rise on his forehead. Because, sure, he’s heard the stories – stories about Brokilon, the mystical forest, full of monsters not seen anywhere else, of indefinable magic and undefeatable horrors hidden amongst the trees – and he has never actually quite dared to even come _this_ close, preferring to stick to the road leading around the forest at quite a distance.

But he’d kind of just assumed that Geralt wouldn’t be deterred by all those stories surrounding Brokilon as normal people would be.

“Really?” he can’t help but ask, raising his eyebrows, feeling a slight grin tilt his lips.

“It’s not worth the hassle,” Geralt just grunts in confirmation.

Jaskier tilts his head.

Come to think of it… If his witcher – the one who goes up against every single monster thrown at him, no matter what kind, how many, or how ridiculously dangerous – says this place is better avoided then Jaskier sure as hell doesn’t want to go in there. No siree.

He takes a large step back, another, and for the next hour or so of traveling along Brokilon’s borders, he makes absolutely sure to keep Geralt between him and the forest’s edge. Who just gives Jaskier a look that says he thinks he is being ridiculous.

Although, Jaskier would very much like to disagree.

Anything that makes Geralt of all people hesitate even the slightest bit, scares Jaskier witless just on principle. He thinks that, if anything, it’s a testament to his own survival instincts.

* * *

It isn’t until the next day that they come across other people again. Not so surprisingly, it turns out that there apparently aren’t many people willing to ravel even this close to the mystical forest.

Jaskier only knows to expect something to happen at all, when he sees Geralt tilting his head slightly as though listening to something. Although, it isn’t until quite a while later that he himself hears it as well.

There are voices coming closer and it takes Jaskier even longer to realize that they are not only coming closer but also coming from _beyond_ the forest’s border, from _inside_ Brokilon. The forest that Geralt himself declared he’d rather avoid.

Although, Jaskier doesn’t get a chance to speculate just what that means, before a small group suddenly breaks the tree line, just a little distance away from where Jaskier and Geralt have been traveling along the clearing stretching along Brokilon’s border.

It’s three people, a man in gold – who seems strangely familiar even if Jaskier can’t recall where he might have met him before – immediately followed by a blonde girl and a dark-skinned boy.

The boy is the only one amongst them who looks like he might actually have been roughing it for some time now, while the girl – who _also_ has something almost familiar about her, something from his memory nagging at him, though Jaskier can’t quite seem to place her either – is dressed in clothes that Jaskier easily picks out to be really rather expensive. She is also talking non-stop, almost seems to be badgering the man leading their little group with questions.

The man himself is actually wearing a less-than-enthused expression at the entire situation.

It takes the group in front of them only a few moments to notice Geralt and Jaskier standing a little ways away, and it’s actually the girl who spots them first, something seeming to almost pull at her attention, like an invisible force drawing her gaze to them.

Her eyes unerringly land on Geralt.

There is a pause, the girl falling silent as soon as she spots Geralt, eyes wide, attention fixed on the witcher as she stares. Like she quite literally can’t make herself look away.

Although, the truly odd thing? Geralt himself seems to very much be just as focused on her, attention fixed solely on the girl. Which is honestly just strange. Because Geralt is never truly distracted, much less while in the company of strangers.

However, Jaskier doesn’t get a chance to speak up, to ask what’s happening, before the girl’s obvious shift of focus also has her two companions notice them standing a little distance away. The man in gold blinks at Geralt, then at Jaskier, clearly taken aback by their presence.

And then, there is suddenly a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, pulling him backwards, behind Geralt.

He goes immediately, automatically, lets himself be moved without any sort of resistance or hesitation. Because the only times Geralt ever pushes him around physically is when there is an immediate and rather life-threatening danger nearby, putting his witcher on alert.

Jaskier is already reaching for Roach’s reins, pulling the mare backwards with him, just two or three steps, until they are settled the slightest bit behind Geralt.

Not that he actually has any clue just where the supposed danger that apparently put the witcher on edge might be _at_. The little group of one man and two teenagers really doesn’t look particularly dangerous at all.

Then again, spotting, assessing, and taking care of any threats crossing their path, has always been Geralt’s job. Jaskier is just along for the entertainment.

From his vantage point slightly behind the witcher, he can see the girl still staring at Geralt with wide eyes, seeming almost hypnotized, exclusively focused. Going by the way Geralt is returning her unwavering attention, Jaskier is just going to assume he might be missing something really rather significant about this entire situation.

Although, it’s the man in gold who finally speaks up first.

“Geralt, my old friend,” the man smiles. And, yep, Jaskier is almost certain he’s seen this man before somewhere. “What a wonderful coincidence to meet you here,” he adds, his smile warm and broad and honest.

If it weren’t for the way he can see Geralt’s eyes promptly narrowing in utter fury, Jaskier would absolutely believe this man’s seemingly genuine delight at seeing them here.

“Geralt?” the girl suddenly interjects, perking up, eyes still wide as she stares at the witcher but now something hopeful and almost strangely desperate about her.

And then she is moving forward, so suddenly she unintentionally even side-steps the not-at-all-subtle grab the man in gold makes for her, even as Geralt takes three quick strides to cross the remaining distance between them, putting himself perfectly in sword range to – if need be – defend her from the man at her side.

The girl clearly misses the byplay entirely, doesn’t notice the tense atmosphere between the two men or all that might be implied.But Jaskier sure as hell doesn’t.

He absolutely sees how those three strides not only put Geralt range to protect her, but also how Geralt has angled his body, in a way that will let him push the girl behind himself in Jaskier’s general direction with barely a twitch if he needs to.

“Geralt of Rivia?” she is asking instead, eyes wide as she stops barely half a step away from Geralt, clearly not at all deterred by the do-not-dare-enter-my-personal-space vibe Geralt tends to project at anyone in his general vicinity.

And Jaskier certainly doesn’t miss the way Geralt’s entire posture is opened to this girl, opened in a way he has barely ever seen from the witcher in all the years they’ve known each other, and he has most certainly _never_ seen it in the presence of other people. But for some reason, Geralt’s guard seems to simply be _down_ with this girl, defenses utterly discarded in her presence.

 _Okay, there is definitely something weird going on here_ , Jaskier thinks glancing between the two of them, even as he takes two measured steps closer himself. So, he’ll be able to hold on to the girl in case Geralt really pushes her at Jaskier.

Which might definitely still happen, considering the almost tangible move-and-I-kill-you threat Geralt is rather aggressively radiating towards the man in gold.

“This is him, isn’t it, Mousesack?” the girl is asking, something excited in her voice, seeming quite content, almost relaxed, where she is still standing well within Geralt’s personal space.

But before the man in gold can try to answer her, Geralt is suddenly interjecting with a dark growl, “That is not Mousesack.”

The girl blinks at the witcher. “Not-” she pauses, clearly confused. “Of course, he-“

“Geralt,” the ‘apparently-not-who-or-what-he-is-pretending-to-be’ man suddenly interjects in vague amusement. “What are you saying, old friend? Of course I am. We’ve known each other for so long. Is your memory finally going in your old age?”

Geralt’s lips curl, slightly bearing his teeth, and Jaskier immediately feels himself coming even more alert. Because, for Geralt to be angry enough for it to actually show on his face beyond his general moody scowl? _Boy_ , that’s a bad sign.

“Of course, he is,” the girl adds her protests as well. “I’ve known Mousesack my entire life.”

“And I have known him for far longer than that,” Geralt growls, his anger almost palpable now, pure fury hanging in the air around him. “However, that is not him. _That_ is just a monster wearing a friend’s face.”

And, well, at that really rather creepy proclamation, Jaskier is reaching out, grasps the girl’s cloak and tugs her backwards to his side, Geralt letting her go without so much as glancing at him.

The possibly-a-monster in gold steps forward, likely about to protest at the girl being pulled entirely out of his range. Though, he – _it?_ – quickly draws back again at finding himself confronted with a silver-gleaming sword suddenly pointing straight at him.

The dark-skinned boy has already switched over to their side as well, clearly feeling no attachment whatsoever to the man proclaiming-to-be-someone-he-apparently-isn’t. He comes up on the girl’s other side, glances at Jaskier, assessing him cautiously, but then just rests a hand on her arm, clearly in a plea for her to wait, to stay put.

She glances at the boy, so obviously confused and afraid, but then finally settles slightly, a somewhat confused frown still on her face, but not actually protesting beyond her initial objection, not struggling nearly as much as Jaskier would have expected her to.

Almost like she might already have suspected that something might be off with this supposed Mousesack acquaintance of hers.

And Jaskier doesn’t even want to know what sort of picture they are currently making, a bard, two teenagers, and a horse huddling behind a witcher intent on protecting them from who seems to be just an ordinary - and truly not at all threatening-looking - man.

It’s likely quite the amusing picture.

Or it will be.

Once Jaskier isn’t so freaked out by Geralt’s proclamation about anyone ‘wearing someone else’s face’ anymore. Because, screw monsters and their various freaky freaky abilities.

“Geralt,” said monster tries again, voice placating. “Don’t be foolish, old friend. You know me. We last saw each other at Pavetta’s engagement party. You’ve been sending me missives whenever you heard anything about someone or something planning to go after Calanthe or Ciri here, trying to keep them safe from afar. You _know_ me.”

The witcher just scoffs slightly, sword held loosely but unwavering. “You might as well end the game now, Doppler. Your disguise is useless,” he says. And then his voice drops into something dark and truly threatening, fury vibrating in his tone, expression darkening further as he adds, “I do not appreciate monsters talking to me as though they were a friend of mine.”

And at that, the monster’s – apparently stolen – face finally twists, most likely in frustration at Geralt being so very unmoved by the entreaties about some supposed mistake, stubborn to a fault whenever the witcher makes up his mind about something. Geralt does that to people. And monsters, apparently.

If not for the whole probably-a-monster thing, Jaskier might even feel for the man.

“How could you tell?” the thing pretending to be a friend of Geralt’s finally spits.

The girls beside Jaskier flinches backwards at the sudden echo in the apparent monster’s voice.

“You stink,” Geralt supplies, anger still radiating off him, but voice neutral as ever. Then, he shrugs slightly, something utterly condescending about the gesture as he comments, “You dopplers, several centuries but you still haven’t figured out how to copy someone’s smell. And until you do…,” he shrugs again.

The ‘until you do get good enough to fool my kind, you’ll die at my hands like any other monsters I encounter’ very much implied.

The doppler still wearing a human face snarls, clearly furious now, features twisting in anger as it hisses, “Geralt of Rivia, finally coming to the rescue of his child surprise. Done defying destiny, then?” it mocks. “You should have listened to your friend and stayed instead of running cowardly.”

“Ooooh,” Jaskier goes quietly in recognition, giving voice to his sudden epiphany of just what is going on here, of who this girl must be.

Although, quite honestly, no matter how serious this situation may seem, the ridiculousness of it all almost makes him want to grin. Trust his witcher to stumble across a princess in the complete wilderness, never mind that she is also tied to him by destiny. Seriously, with all the stuff that keeps happening to Geralt, Lady Destiny must either have a bit of a _thing_ for the witcher or personally have it _out_ for Geralt for some reason.

Well, the witcher seems utterly unmoved by the monster clearly trying to go for his soft spots, eyes only narrowing the slightest bit as he comments, “If you are wearing Mousesack’s face,” he says, his voice dark. “I do wonder what happened to my friend once you took on his shape.”

“Your friend is dead,” the monster growls viciously, lashing out, likely in an attempt to rile Geralt. “We don’t like copies of ourselves walking around.”

The witcher doesn’t visibly react at all, but the girl beside Jaskier – who is also apparently the princess of Cintra’s – flinches again, curling in on herself with a near-silent sob, the boy at her side stepping in a little closer, clearly trying to comfort her.

“You are going to die here,” Geralt then announces calmly, like it’s a foregone conclusion. Which it admittedly kind of is. Pissing off a witcher does tend to shorten one’s lifespan significantly. Geralt gives an uncaring shrug as he lifts his sword. “It is your choice whether you die looking like this or while wearing your own face. Decide quickly.”

A snarl. And then the doppler’s features twist, turning grey and truly misformed, and Jaskier pulls a face in disgust. Because, ew.

The girl sobs again at the proof of this truly not being who she thought it was. Geralt slides one of his feet backwards, the only warning the monster gets. And as the witcher springs forwards, all Jaskier can think is how glad he is that Geralt won’t be forced to kill something wearing the face of someone he clearly considered a friend.

The fight – if you can call it that at all – barely lasts all of three seconds before the monster’s head is lobbed clean off.

 _Good old Geralt_ , Jaskier thinks, lips tilting into a slight grin. _Efficient as always._

It takes a while for the girl to calm down again, her fingers now curled into the fabric of a scarf that the doppler had been carrying on himself and which appears to mean something to her.

Geralt makes them move a little distance away, picks a spot to make camp about a fifteen minute walk away from the site of the fight. Less than half an hour later, there are three rabbits being roasted above the fire burning merrily in the middle of their little semi-circle.

Dara – as the boy introduced himself earlier – actually made the fire and Jaskier can admit that it seems to be quite a bit sturdier than any fire place he himself has ever managed to build.

There is silence between the four of them, and it’s admittedly making Jaskier rather jittery at this point. Three people around him and not one of them is talking. Sure, Geralt is no surprise and Dara doesn’t seem like the chatty type either, and of course the girl is clearly still mourning the news of the death of someone she had known all her life.

So, Jaskier forces himself to hold his tongue for now. At least for a while. And he most certainly ignores the way he can see Geralt’s lips curling into something of a smirk as he throws a glance Jaskier’s way, clearly amused at his current enforced silence.

Jaskier just sniffs disdainfully.

Hmpf. He’ll get his revenge later.

Honestly, Geralt should know better by now. Forcing Jaskier to stay silent for any amount of time, only means he’ll do his best to make up for the missed talking opportunities later on.

It isn’t until after their meal of bland rabbit meat that the girl finally speaks up. “My grandmother told me to find you,” she says rather abruptly, gaze once more fixed on Geralt, a sudden determination about her.

A slight pause.

Then, “You are Duny and Pavetta’s child,” Geralt says with a slight sigh.

“Cirilla,” she says with a careful nod. “Or Ciri,” she adds on. “You knew my parents? And my grandmother? Why did she tell me to find you?”

Geralt eyes her. “For Calanthe to have sent you after me, I take it, Cintra has fallen then?” he not-quite-asks.

Ciri nods, face drawn, a desolate sort of anger in her eyes. “Nilfgaard’s army came. They killed Eist, injured my grandmother, and finally pressed past Mousesack’s defenses into the city. Right before my grandmother made me leave, she told me to find you.” She pauses, eyes questioning and intent as she adds, “She said, you are my destiny.”

Geralt sighs. “It’s a long story,” he finally concedes.

The conversation between Geralt and Ciri isn’t easy, too much grief, too many unspoken accusations of missed duties and misjudgments. Jaskier doesn’t actually hear all of it, having moved a little distance away with Dara to give them the illusion of privacy, and thus only snaps up bits of the conversation from time to time.

But by the end of it, Ciri is leaning against Geralt’s side, eyes rimmed red from crying, but apparently settled within herself once more, having more or less accepted Geralt’s reasoning for having stayed mostly away, trying to protect her from afar as well he could, sending warnings to Cintra whenever he heard about any sort of threat coming for her.

She actually admits that even if Geralt had tried, neither would Calanthe have ever let Geralt take Ciri, nor would Ciri herself have wanted to leave with him. They make their peace with it.

That night, Jaskier lets the two teenagers have his sleeping bag to share. It seems only fair. You know, since Jaskier has his very own witcher-shaped heater to keep him warm during the night. And, as he hoped and halfway expected, Geralt is already curling around his back before Jaskier can fully settle into his spot at his side, the witcher just entirely unbothered by the audience of two teenagers suddenly sharing their camp.

Jaskier barely manages to suppress his grin as he relaxes into the hold. Yeah, he really has no reason to complain.

The next morning, there is something almost relaxed, something comfortable, at ease, almost _liberated_ , about Ciri, like she left a burden behind, like she is exactly where she wants to be. Jaskier is honestly glad to see it.

She also seems absolutely determined to stick with Geralt from now on. Who seems rather intent on the same.

So, Jaskier shouldn’t be surprised when after they gather their things, pack up their camp, Ciri just asks, “So, where are we going?” Her voice is animated in a way it definitely wasn’t just yesterday, her determination to make the best of the lot life has given her honestly rather admirable. 

Jaskier tilts his head, not quite sure what to say in reply to her question or how to explain this whole Jaskier-leading-exactly-where-Geralt-wants-to-go thing of the past couple of weeks without also making it sound like something it – sadly – isn’t. Yet.

But before he can actually say anything, Geralt is already answering. “We are going to the coast,” the witcher announces calmly. Like it is a fact.

Never mind that Jaskier – as the one supposedly leading their travels these past few weeks – hasn’t been aware of ‘the coast’ being their goal. At all.

He blinks, honestly surprised at the rather random proclamation. “We are?” he asks somewhat incredulously.

“Hm,” Geralt hums in confirmation, utterly nonchalant. “You said that’s where you wanted to go.”

Jaskier blinks some more.

And suddenly he recalls their conversation right after Borch supposedly dying. Sitting with Geralt, overlooking the mountain range in front of them and Jaskier talking about the two of them just leaving the next morning, maybe go to the coast, talking about trying to figure out what pleases him.

But, wait. Is Geralt honestly…

“And what about you?” Jaskier asks rather abruptly.

Because two can play that game of saying things without actually saying them, especially as that seems to be the only way he can get his witcher to talk at all. And also because he is honestly taken aback at Geralt having had a destination in mind all along. A destination based on a thirty second conversation they had several weeks ago.

“Where do _you_ want to go, then?” Jaskier repeats. Because his suggestion of ‘the coast’ had been as much about Jaskier finding what pleases him for himself, as it had been about the witcher doing the same.

And Geralt just meets his eyes, calm, something settled about him that hadn’t been there even just yesterday, eyes on Jaskier.

“I’m good either way,” he asserts calmly.

Like it’s just that easy.

Jaskier blinks, swallows, unsuccessfully tries to ignore what Geralt isn’t saying out loud, the implication of them going to the coast so Jaskier can try to ‘figure out what pleases him’, while Geralt apparently has no need to do anything of the sort.

The implication of Geralt apparently already having found it. The implication that, no matter where they go, Geralt already _has_ what pleases him anyway.

Jaskier swallows again, honestly speechless as Geralt just turns to pat Roach’s side, utterly nonchalant - like he didn’t just entirely upend Jaskier’s view of the world, his view of self, much less his view of _them_ \- and then calmly starts walking.

Towards ‘the coast’, apparently.

Jaskier watches him walk ahead, before he finally huffs a somewhat incredulous laugh to himself, and finally starts following Geralt and the kids back towards the clearing to continue their travel.

Trust Geralt to make declaration like ‘as long as you’re there, I don’t care where we go’ without actually saying any of it out loud.

Then again, _that’s just par for the course, isn’t it_.

Jaskier shakes his head slightly in honest amusement, so very endeared by the witcher’s absolute inability to properly articulate his emotions but Geralt still being able to say everything he wants or need to, no words required. If only one is willing to listen.

By the gods, does Jaskier adore this man, with all his flaws and his unwavering standoffishness and a heart so big that, even after decades of traveling together, Jaskier has yet to find a limit to his witcher’s compassion for every living creature on earth.

And as he finally brings up his lute to cheerfully strum a few chords, Jaskier can’t help but think that – after so many songs about Geralt of Rivia’s various adventures, about the White Wolf killing monsters, about the white-haired witcher defeating one foe after another for the sake of humanity – maybe it’s about time he finally writes a song about the _man_ Jaskier has gotten to know over the years.

You know, for completeness’ sake.

A song telling of barely-there smiles shining brighter than the widest grin, of shuttered eyes hiding the softness glowing from within, of shoulders so broad you forget about the weight of the burdens they carry, of strong hands wielding silver swords and forever protecting the innocent, of true bravery and unwavering kindness, of a furrowed brow and few spoken words to hide the caring underneath…

Yes, maybe Jaskier should finally write that song about the true white knight in dark armor he met so many years ago, to rival any hero from the stories told across the continent.

Sure, Geralt will likely be pissed if Jaskier were to do anything of the sort.

But, hey, if Geralt gets to mushily declare that simply traveling with Jaskier no matter what their destination may be is all he needs from life, then Jaskier gets to be just as mushy right back and write a glorious ballad declaring his adoration for the witcher in turn.

Either way, he has it on good authority that no matter how unamused Geralt might be about what will likely turn out to be a rather epic love song, the witcher still won’t harm a single hair on Jaskier’s head. Geralt wouldn’t be able to bear it.

He grins, eyes fixed on his witcher’s back, rhymes for said song already running through his head.

Turns out, Jaskier has no need to search for what pleases him, either. No need to visit the coast for him to figure out something he’s already known since a long time ago. Jaskier is perfectly fine right where he is.

Though, he has no intention of actually saying as much. At least, not yet.

First of all, he’ll eat his lute if the witcher doesn’t already know, if Geralt hasn’t been able to read his every thought on the matter on his face, if he isn’t already fully aware of Jaskier’s very-much-returned feelings.

And second of all, Geralt still kind of owes him anyway, and a trip to the beach does sound like a rather splendid plan. And who knows what might happen along the way.

Not like the destination matters much anyway. Just as long as Jaskier has his witcher with him, just as long as the two of them are together.

Well, ‘the four of them’, now.

 _Although_ _, honestly, that’s just details,_ Jaskier thinks cheerfully, grinning to himself as he finally catches up to walk right beside Geralt, easily falling into step with his witcher. Who just glances at him, possibly wondering about the entirely new melody Jaskier is currently humming along to, even if he is keeping the lines for this newest song in his head for now.

But as usual, Geralt doesn't actually comment, instead - after another second or two of watching Jaskier - turning to once more face forwards, eyes on the path in front of them, watching for any potential dangers from their surroundings, while Jaskier just keeps strumming his lute beside him, cheerfully composing his newest song right at his witcher's side.

Just as they've always been, as they've been ever since the very moment they met. Exactly as it's supposed to be.

Jaskier smiles.

Life is good.

* * *

The End

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! To a far longer fic than I originally set out to write :)
> 
> And I couldn’t help but want to bring Ciri into this as well, and then also fix what I could about her story while I was at it. Would love to know what you think :D
> 
> Thank you so so much for all your kudos and your wonderful comments throughout! You guys are wonderful <3


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